


Trouble in the Heartland

by swedishstylepatrol



Series: My Hometown [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Small Town, Kid Fic, M/M, Mpreg, Off-Screen Underage Sex, Original Character(s), Teen Pregnancy, Written in Dialect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 14:10:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9610865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swedishstylepatrol/pseuds/swedishstylepatrol
Summary: Ealdor is the place where his mother was born and where she died and now Arthur's father wants him to return there, to tear it all down.





	

Arthur was 16 when Uther hauled them out of Ealdor, preached about how small this town was, how everyone knew everything about everyone, no privacy to be had. And Uther Pendragon was a man of secrets. So he pulled Arthur and Morgana out of the small school they went to. Put them in the truck at dusk, all their belongings packed up and ready, and drove out to the city. Uther made it so that they weren’t ever gonna look back, even if it had been their home for many years. 

Arthur grew up in Ealdor when his mama wanted a nice quiet life in the country. But she gone and died. And Uther had no penchant for this silent place, the boring nowhere. He believed he was destined for something greater and no more wife to anchor him here. Not that he didn't love her because he did, because he would have given Igraine the whole world and more. But now she was gone and he wanted nothing to do with the place she loved best. There weren't anything left for him here. Especially not the sad memories of her dying days. Corn fields reminded him of summers and Igraine loved summers something fierce. She loved the way her hair caught fire when the setting sun's rays touched her head, loved that Arthur's golden locks did the same. She loved the natural taste of sweet tea; Uther would never drink another sip. She loved their neighbours and their friends and Uther could never look at any one of them and not feel heartache. 

So he took them away from this place. Childhood was left back in Ealdor and Camelot embraced Arthur as a man. A good man, he hoped. 

He’s the spitting image of his mama but he is his daddy's boy, a chip off the old block. He walks like him, and talks like him, and threatens like him. People in Camelot would fear and respect them; heart of stone, these Pendragon men, they’d say. But they all of them, Morgana included, was richer than God, more influential too. City life changed them. City life nurtured them into their money, and then money moulded them into titans of industry. Never mind the fact that Arthur's all but 23 years of age and Morgana all of 18 years old. Arthur’s muscular and built like a greek hero and Morgana turned from little lady into a woman proper. They both turned heads and left a wake of broken hearts behind them, as did their daddy whom they worked hard to impress, whom they admired and idolized their whole lives. 

And when Uther Pendragon commanded his children, there wasn't anything to do but listen and follow. There wasn't a choice for Arthur when his daddy told him that their house in Ealdor and its surrounding area —their fields, the acres they once roamed— is nothing more than a good investment today. That he'd have to send Arthur back to the country side and deal with renovating their old home into something more useful. Ain’t nobody lived there for seven years. Might as well be turned into something profitable. 

Uther wants it to be turned into a small strip mall. Not too big but not a convenience store either. And if their land weren't enough, well, Arthur would just have to go and convince the people living there to move elsewhere because this mall they'll be building is much more beneficial than a farm that is dead less than half the year because snow's made it impossible to plant and harvest. Strip mall would do them a lot more good, open up employment opportunities, bring around the tourists more often —as if Ealdor's a travel destination. It has one standing B&B that can't take more than 15 tenants at a time, has nothing but rolling hills, sun kissed grass, and beaten earth. 

But Uther is optimistic about this business venture, has got a lot of investors riding on this idea. They'd start with a mall, and then motels, and then hotels, until there ain't no country left, until Uther Pendragon owns this town, until nothing's left of Igraine anywhere on the map, until it stops hurting him inside. None of them investors know this reason because he'd done a fine job at presenting to them what really mattered in their eyes: guaranteed fortune. Because the Pendragons are more influential than God and the people in Camelot plenty pious. Uther's fancies himself the second-coming.

Athur ain't take but two days to gather his belongings and pack his leather travel bag with expensive city clothes, suits and all, and drive back to the country in his red convertible. Uther ain't give him but two days. They ain't got time to spare, Uther warned and sent Arthur on his way. It’s a six hour drive from the edge of the city to the outskirts of the country and Arthur's GPS ain't helping much due to Ealdor's unreliable road structure. Sometimes the rains flooded the road and sometimes there ain't but gravel for miles ahead. 

To say his journey’s a rocky one is an understatement. Dust flew around him for miles and Arthur had to roll the roof of his car back up to save the interior, never mind that the sun’s beating down on the earth and the inside is cooking even though he has the air conditioning going. 

He gets to Ealdor somewhere between the sunset and nighttime. He catches the tail end of the sun as it sinks beneath the horizon. The night air becomes cooler but not by much and he wants nothing more than to find that tiny B&B and plant himself on a tiny bed in this small town. But the GPS got nothing about no B&B, so obscure it don't even make the map. 

Arthur curses the summer heat and his father and then mentally slaps himself for his disrespect. He apologizes to no one, for good measure. Bad karma's the least he wants to think about now. He's driving real slow, turning his head side to side, watching for the sign that'll tell him that he's where he ought to be, telling him he's going to be able to get some rest but nothing's popping up. All small family houses in sight. Arthur reckons maybe it's gone now. Maybe his daddy had scared their business away with the way he'd sent scouts out here in the winter. He don't dare go himself much less send Arthur that winter. But his daddy's men had stayed at the bed and breakfast so it must still be up and running despite its lack of tenants. 

The night sky is littered with stars and frustration is about to break Arthur. His headlights are blinding. He knows because suddenly there’re two figures, a man and a child, and they have their hands in front of their eyes as if they're looking up at the sun. Arthur’s suddenly aware of the expensive sunglasses atop his hair. He’d honk but feels like he'd wake up the whole town. He decides to roll to a stop where the man and child standing just a meter away from where he is. Arthur Pendragon would never stoop so low as to ask for directions, his daddy raised him better (prideful) than that. But the evening’s growing and his day’s ending, he wants nothing more than a quiet room no matter how minuscule, and to succumb to sleep.

The red car sticks out in the country road like a soar thumb; ain't no city car like that for miles around. 

Merlin grew up here, he knows every sound a truck made, ‘specially since they grew up hearing Old Man Simmons’ truck driving down the road early in the morning waking up the whole town like it were that damn rooster's caw, and no truck's headlights this bright especially at this time. Merlin’s just got back from Miss Gwen’s, because it’s dinner time, and it would have been too late to go home but Elinor misses her bed at home and Gwen needs that one room at the B&B. 

Merlin and Elinor notices the way the car cruising calm as you like on the dirt road. It looks lost. And not just direction-wise. It looks like it don't belong because it clearly don’t. That much is obvious. Elinor squeezes his hand like she ain't never seen a car before, the quiet rumbling of the red car scaring her more than thunderclap and rainstorms. Merlin knows she's just afraid of strangers and this newcomer seems strange enough. Merlin keeps his mouth shut, stands beside the road, waits for the car to pass them by, make its merry way out of town. 

But it stops where they’re standing and Merlin pulls Elinor closer to him, clutching at her shoulder. Elinor takes on Merlin's obvious nervousness, seeing as her papa ain't ever been this scared before. Her papa’s strong even if he'd been a single-parent household. She believes he'd raised her right though. She knows she ain't gonna turn out like those ladies down at Gwen's sometimes, getting into bedrooms with new strangers every day. But Miss Gwen had always chased them away, ain't none of that whoring down at her respectable establishment. It brings tourists ‘round more but it brings them ‘round anyways; Ealdor’s only got the one bed and breakfast.

Merlin ain't gonna say nothing to this stranger, hopes he’ll take a look at them and drive away, hopes the stranger will think Merlin knows nothing, think Merlin ain't learned. But the stranger is adamant, gets out of his car, brave and stupid like. Maybe it’s himself Merlin is referring to; brave enough to face this person, stupid for standing there at night with his daughter. What if this person is a murderer, gut them right in their stomachs and make invisible Ealdor into the most talked about place in all of Albion? The town’s already as dead as it can be, Merlin thinks acrimoniously. 

When the man is in view, Merlin notices he’s got blonde hair and expensive boots and in the dark, he looks normal as ever, city-normal that is. Ain't no one around here that looked anything remotely close to him. Merlin would reckon the sun reflected in his golden hair if it were morning. And those boots look so new, like they ain't seen better days, ain't seen anything quite yet, ain't walked nowhere in the country side. 

Merlin feels self-conscious of his ratty jeans and his old boots he's been wearing for four years now. It was a gift from his Mama, and he ain't gotten a new one in so long since every penny they had is going to the house and their mouths and to whatever Ellie needs: clothes, books, for school. Merlin has no idea why this stranger’s in their town but strangers spell trouble. Merlin had run into those suits last winter talking like they'd be shutting down the whole town, building something over their dead bodies, or something. It was scary and Merlin almost wanted to rally the town and run the bastards out. But they'd just left after three days and the town believed they were safe, for now at least. Merlin prays there won't be trouble like that with this guy.

"Are you lost, Mister?" Elinor asks, piping up from where Merlin’s holding her and Merlin could never shut the girl up; she's a mind of her own and a voice she let free more often than not. But Merlin don’t stop her now because where she's engaging, Merlin is frozen where he stands, no words, hell, no breath coming out his mouth.

"I am, in fact. Do you know where the bed and breakfast is?" The stranger is all city, posh accent, but there’s something about him that’s achingly familiar to Merlin.

"Miss Gwen's down that road," Ellie points the way they were coming from.

"Just keep going ’til you run out of gravel and start driving down her manicured lawn." Merlin finishes for Elinor, hopes the stranger gets back into his car and starts driving back down the road but then he catches the stranger's blue eyes and Merlin’s rendered speechless again.

This ain't no stranger. This is someone Merlin never wanted to see again. This is someone Merlin missed like hell.

This is Arthur Pendragon, in the flesh, wearing boots that cost a fortune, driving around this car that cost more than life. Arthur fucking Pendragon rolling into town as if he ain't grown up in these dirt roads, ain't never walked to Gwen's in the middle of the night to meet up with Merlin, as if he ain't ever set foot here, lived here, changed Merlin's life here. 

But this Arthur don't look nothing like 16, seven years ago, but then neither does Merlin. He can't see none of Miss Igraine, bless her soul, in the man standing before him now. All Merlin sees is the mirror image of Uther Pendragon and he is as good as. Standing like he owns the world and everything in it. Actually, that ain't very far from the Arthur Merlin used to know; that childish boy who felt like he could conquer the world, like it would congregate around him as if it was obligated to plead fealty to him. 

Merlin damn near cries at the sight of Arthur. Maybe he laughs, breathlessly because Arthur’s more awake now, snapped into life by Merlin’s bitter laughter.

"Holy shit,” Arthur cusses and Merlin grabs Elinor's head in response, covering her ears as if she ain't ever heard a cuss word in her life. (Her Uncle Will come around often, too often, in fact.) Arthur's eyes look like they’re bulging out his eye sockets and Merlin does nothing but try to look away. Arthur’s eyes remind him too much of the blue skies they watched when they were kids, remind him too much of childhood freedom.

“Merlin?” Arthur says his name, and it sounds different as hell, sounds wrong somehow. And Merlin almost don't nod. Because ain’t nothing good going to come out of this but Merlin ain’t a liar and there ain’t no harm in it.

“Yeah?” Merlin finally says. 

"Oh shit…shit! I'm sorry.” Arthur's as bad at cussing as he is at apologizing. 

Arthur looks at Merlin's hands, the way they're trying to protect Elinor's ears from vulgarity. Arthur's vocabulary seems full of them cuss words, but what city folk don't?

"You driving the wrong way. Head back down that road, getting darker out here. Best if we get home and you best see if Gwen's still got room for you," is all Merlin says and Arthur still standing there like he ain't heard one word.

Merlin fakes a cough, snapping Arthur from his reverie.

"Uh...yeah. Yeah. Probably. Merlin, I'm staying for a few days, why don't we catch up?" Arthur responds and Merlin dying to say yes and no at the same time.

Instead he says, "You know where I live." And that’s that. Even though Merlin thinks even for a moment that Arthur might have forgotten that. Arthur'll put the effort if he cares enough. Put more effort than he did years ago. 

Merlin hushes Elinor, the precocious girl, too curious for her own good, when she asks about the man in the good boots with the “fast car”.

"How'd you reckon it's fast? It ain't driving round a race track."

Elinor gives him her cheeky smile, “It's red, ain't it." It ain't even really a question. Everyone knows all them red cars drive faster than running horses.

Merlin doesn’t sleep too well that night. He knows Arthur Pendragon’s got everything to do with it.

In the morning, Will barges into the house at first light because he ain't got the good sense that God gave a rock. So he ends up waking Elinor way before she has to and interrupts Merlin making breakfast for two. But Will ain’t never had no reservations about anything so he plots himself in Merlin's mama's kitchen table anyways, waiting for himself to be served as if Merlin's a kitchen wench.

"Go home, Will, it's too early for your antics," Merlin tells Will but sure enough he places a plate of eggs in front of Will like normal.

"Thanks," Will beams up at Merlin, winks at him, and then digs into his eggs like his own mama don't feed him right. But Will’s got four brothers and two sisters and they all got grubby hands faster than bandits.

"Morning, Uncle Will!" Elinor greets him as she plops herself beside his chair; her hair sticking up but her yellow dress is pristine as she kisses Merlin on his cheek and then kisses her Uncle Will on his cheek too. Merlin runs his hand through her unruly hair as blonde as... Well it’s soft enough and perfect for Ellie. Merlin loves it, even if the curious little miss asked more often than he liked where she got her hair seeing as Merlin and grandmama both got dark hair. Merlin would just distract her with kisses and tickles and would hope she'll forget about it.

"Morning to you too, Miss Ellie.”

Elinor smiles at him and her smile is all Merlin, all dimples and cheekbones.

"Merlin," Will starts when he finishes his eggs, looks at Merlin with guarded eyes and the smile’s gone from his face, replaced quickly by a small frown. Merlin mirrors the frown. Will’s looking at Merlin like there's something wrong...which Merlin doesn't get because it's a fine sunny day and they've got the weekend ahead of them. Or Merlin just straight ignoring what came rolling into town last night. Why not? Arthur ain’t never said a word to Merlin in seven years, especially when they did what they did and the importance of what it amounted to. 

But Will ain't letting it go. Merlin manages to shut him right up with a look and keeps him quiet until Merlin’s mama comes down the stairs, asking if Ellie’s ready to go to church. They're going down to the church this morning because Sunday's for the devout and Merlin's family ain't ever sat through Sunday church. Sunday’s too sacred to be spent up in a place just bigger than their house, everybody rubbing shoulders with everybody. Town's already full of gossips, ain't respectful to the Lord to gossip in church.

When Ellie’s gone with her grandmama and they're alone, walking down the road to Gwen’s, Will breaks the ice casual as he likes, like he don’t know the very history that comes along with what lecture he’s got for Merlin. 

“I heard Arthur Pendragon’s in town,” Will says like Merlin doesn’t already know, so Merlin tells him.

“I know. Me and Ellie seen him last night, driving into town, lost as a sheep.”

“What’d you reckon he’s here for?”

Merlin scoffs because he knows what Will is trying to say. Will is a lot of things and subtle ain’t even been one of them. 

“It certainly ain’t for me.”

Will just shrugs. “Be careful, Merlin. Remember what happened with Gwaine?” 

Of course Merlin remembers. Ain’t a day goes by that Merlin doesn't think about Gwaine; charming, hair-flipping, melt-you-with-a-smile Gwaine. Some days Merlin misses Gwaine something terrible. Except, some days are less than most.

Gwaine had come around two summers ago, like a thunderstorm directly during a draught. He was a travelling musician, coming into town to work on his music because it was cheaper than staying in the city and the closest city that had a flourishing music industry was four hours away.

Gwaine came into Merlin's life sweeping him off his feet, not minding in the slightest that Merlin got a five-year old Elinor to look after. Gwaine wanted to stay but he'd been too young to settle down and his music was the now-or-never kind. At least that's what he told Merlin and they spent summer days under the sky, backs against the grass and Gwaine sang them songs Merlin ain't never heard of, singing about all these places Merlin cain't even begin to imagine. Gwaine had been all over and he'd left to go explore some more. 

Gwaine'd had a friend with him, Lance, but Lance stayed. Caught himself smitten with Miss Gwen. He helps out in her establishment most days, but the other days, when she ain't need much help, Lance does everything else. Lance was learned proper. He knew a number of languages and he’d try to teach some of the kids at school French but them kids were more delighted when Lance sang because he sounded like a bird. Elinor said she liked her Papa's singing voice better (which Lance took no offence) so instead she got private lessons on French at the B&B or whichever house needed his help. Lance was a handyman, working the plumbing, fixing the electric. Anything really. And Miss Gwen was smitten right back. They married at the church last fall.

"You loved him, though," Will tells him like it's a crime that Merlin's allowed to love someone. Just because he’d gone and got pregnant with Arthur's child doesn't mean he cain't ever love someone else again. Besides, Arthur wasn't there. Elinor wasn't his kid. By blood maybe but not by anything else. He ain't raise her, doesn't know she even ever existed. And he doesn't have to. He can just keep living his life in the city, be whoever he wants to be. Ain't no use burdening Arthur like this.

"Yeah, so?"

"So...Gwaine leaving broke your heart, damn near broke the rest of you too."

Merlin scoffs at Will. Will ain't got no right, Merlin wants to say but Will's got all the right in the world. He's the one who found Merlin crying in his room the day Gwaine left. He's the one who took care of and distracted Elinor from Merlin's heartbroken days. But he loved Gwaine, he did and Gwaine'd told him that if he ever were to come back to Ealdor, if Merlin kept being unattached and Gwaine found himself ready to settle, then they'd do it proper: marry each other and stuff, be Elinor's other father.

"It doesn't matter. It ain't like he's ever coming back."

Will shrugs, "Maybe Lance and him still talking to each other, maybe he will, what'll you do then? What if you fell for Arthur Pendragon again?"

"It doesn't matter, Will. Arthur'd be out of here in a couple of days, ain't no time to fall for him."

Will lets it go, only to be merciful to Merlin who looks like he's about to cry.

"Besides, maybe Gwaine's famous now and he's got everything he ever wanted. Ain't no way in hell he's going to remember two summers with me.”

Too soon they get to Gwen’s bed and breakfast. Sign says there’s vacancy though it always does, even when it’s busy. Gwen, bless her, ain’t got the heart to turn away anyone in need. Gwen would have made room for the Virgin Mary if it was up to her. 

Lance's truck is out on the lawn right outside the B&B. It's a blue truck but no one'd know by the way the dust settles against the exterior. It's dirty, country dirty which means it'll see its next washing when the rain comes. Arthur's red car is parked next to it, still pristine but Merlin knows the longer he stays here, the dirtier it'll get and there ain't no carwash in town. Merlin wonders if Arthur would throw a fit over it. Them city boys always do. Those suits last winter did.

Miss Gwen’s busy this morning, feeding eight people at the communal dining table but ain’t one of them Arthur, Merlin notices. And it might say something about him that Arthur’s absence is the first thing he notices.

The tenants are half local, those that ain’t got their own houses because they have contract work out in the city, coming home for two weeks or so and then leaving again. Ain’t much sense in owning actual property. The other half are travelling folk. Ealdor’s a cheap stop before getting to the cities around it. Mercia’s four hours away to the west and then Camelot’s six hours to the north. Escetir’s only three hours away but they’re in road construction season so no one’s leaving that city, and no one cares enough to go through the hassle to get in unless they’re really desperate. 

Merlin nods his head at Miss Gwen and gives her a smile but she tuts at him, motioning for him to give her a hug which Lance joins because Merlin ain’t a threat to their relationship, seeing as he’s gay and all. He loves both of them. Miss Gwen and Lance both helped in raising Elinor. 

She’d been the first one to know about Merlin being pregnant, aside from his mama, and Will accidentally finding out because he ain’t got no boundaries like that. He hid away at Gwen’s thinking his Mama would whoop him right out of their house for being pregnant too early, too soon, too damn young, and whose baby’s father ain’t even in the picture. There weren’t no explanation why the other father wasn’t present because Merlin hadn’t got one from him. 

Miss Gwen had let Merlin cry in one of the bedrooms, hadn’t even charged him, but she did give him her two cents. Told him he best get home to his mama and explain. That no matter what, Miss Hunith wouldn’t ever make him hit the road. His mama herself was a young mother, marrying his daddy because they’d gone and got pregnant when she was 17. Merlin’s daddy stayed with them for a while and then had to find a job outside town because farming doesn’t help them much and he wasn’t about to take money from Uther Pendragon no matter how close his mama and Miss Igraine were. But he died when Merlin was four, out on a construction job in Camelot. He’d got insurance and everything so the money went to Merlin and his mama and they’re still living off of that, last remnants of it anyways. She’d used it to renovate the house and send Merlin to school and buy him all the things he’d needed. But it wasn’t ever very much so when Elinor came along, they’d had to sell some stuff, hock his daddy’s shot gun and anything else they had that wasn’t needed, and his mama bought a better sewing machine. It made more sense to make new clothes from old ones than buy them. Merlin wanted to finish high school and the money went there too. It was only two more years and he was already the talk of the town anyways. 

For three years, Merlin’s bastard child was the gossip fodder. Old ladies talked behind his back, whispering too loud, and probably on purpose too. Then Elinor turned four and charmed the pants off of everyone: the old ladies, the church-goers, his classmates, everyone in town, and not a one of them ever called her a bastard child again. 

Elinor ain’t got no one her age around here though; she’s either too young or too old for the other kids. So she sticks with her daddy, her grandmama, Uncle Will, and Miss Gwen and Lance. Sometimes Will’d bring her to his house and his two sisters who were five years older than Elinor would play with her hair, pretend like she’s a life-size little Barbie doll because they ain’t ever got that luxury. Once, Will’s sisters accidentally cut off some of Ellie’s hair, this was two years ago before Gwaine had come, and Merlin had almost cried because she looked exactly like Arthur when he was that age. They got the same eyes and the same short blonde hair. When Gwaine came, he’d got Elinor a hat with a logo on the front of it, for when the sun got too hot. She keeps it under her bed and when Gwaine left, she told Merlin that Gwaine would come back again one day ‘cause she borrowed his hat and he’d come back to get it from her. Merlin just kissed her forehead, didn’t say nothing more, didn’t have the heart to crush her hopes, didn’t have the certainty he was right. 

“Want some breakfast? There’s plenty to go ‘round,” Miss Gwen offers but Merlin shakes his head and stops Will from getting any too.

“Had some at home. You still need help with anything today?” Merlin asks because if Lance is home and he’s not needed, he might as well spend the day with Elinor and his mama. And also because Merlin thinks he ain’t ready to face Arthur Pendragon so early in the morning. 

“Lance is fixing up something at the high school. I got rooms for you to clean, someone checked in late last night.” 

Miss Gwen knows the whole story so she just gives a small apologetic look which Merlin waves away. It’s his job, ain’t it. Fridays to Sundays Merlin works here, helping Miss Gwen clean. But Mondays to Thursdays Merlin works down at the clinic. He apprenticed for Dr. Gaius right out of high school. Biology and Chemistry were his best subjects. He didn’t go to college, didn’t want to go all the way to Mercia so he learned with Gaius’ books and hands-on training. Outside of their town, it’d be unlawful to work like this but no one in town got money enough to turn away cheap but great services. 

Merlin mostly mends broken bones, gives check-ups, tell people what to drink and eat when they ain’t feeling well. The other, more important medical procedures, like surgery, he leaves that to Gaius and Miss Gwen’s brother, Elyan who’d come back three years ago after getting his medical license from Camelot. It ain’t ever that busy down at the clinic but Merlin gets the brunt of the work because Elyan’s mostly supervising him and Gaius can only be bothered when there’s life-threatening situations. Otherwise, Merlin and Elyan handle everything else. 

“Merlin,” Miss Gwen starts and he looks at her and they both share a knowing look. “If you ain’t comfortable-”

“I’m fine, Gwen,” is all he says, all he can say before Arthur’s walking down the steps, got his good boots on, got a nice pair of jeans, a button-down, and sunglasses on his head. He looks regal, like he’s the authority around here. 

But then he smiles at Miss Gwen and Merlin thinks he’s going to fall down on his knees. Arthur ain’t really change that much, Merlin notices. Arthur’s got that boyish smile still. Merlin fell in love with that smile, the way it could light up the dark, make everything seem okay, and damn if Merlin still ain’t affected by it. Before Arthur can say anything, Merlin ducks into the kitchen out of sight. Gwen says nothing about it, just waits until Arthur’s near to offer him some food.

To which Arthur responds ever so politely, “I’m running a bit late. Is there any chance I could get it to go?”

Gwen laughs, “Get it while it’s still hot. Town ain’t going nowhere. Sit, sit.”

Arthur sits down because he’s learned ain’t no one capable of saying no to Gwen, not even himself. (But then again, Arthur’s always had trouble saying no). He sits in one of the empty chairs as Gwen puts a plate of eggs and bacon and a roll of bread and slices of cheese before him. Arthur knows he ain’t supposed to expect a 5-star hotel quality breakfast, none of them buffets, no lobster claws or what-have-you like in the city. But still, he smiles because it ain’t 5-star but it smells good, and it’s homely, and he ain’t had homemade food in a while. His daddy got him working all hours at the office, eating nothing but takeout and caffeinated beverages. 

This feels nice.

Arthur ain’t even eaten with more than two people at a time; only his daddy and Morgana or clients or stockholders. But there’s nine people at the table and Miss Gwen’s hovering around them the way their maid never had. She’s acting more like their mama, passing around food, filling up cups with coffee and orange juice. 

Arthur suddenly misses his mama. Maybe it’s Gwen, maybe it’s this whole place, but Arthur knows he can’t get used to it, because he’ll be leaving soon anyways. 

“Did I see Merlin here awhile ago?” Arthur asks. He ain’t got nothing else to say to Gwen or anyone else. He knows making friends here would make him look like a traitor later. But Arthur figures since he’s a traitor to Merlin anyway, well, there ain’t no harm.

Gwen stares at him and finally says, “Merlin’s busy, dear. He got a whole week of work to catch up on.”

Arthur just nods because he knows what a rejection sounds like, he’s been hearing it from his daddy for most of his life. When someone’s busy, it means they don’t want nothing to do with you. There ain’t no later time, they just want nothing to do with you period. Arthur understands that coming from Merlin seeing as Arthur’s the one who left in the middle of the night, who didn’t fight Uther when his daddy told them they ain’t allowed to contact anyone from here, who didn’t at least try to tell Merlin that that one night meant so much more to him than he could ever comprehend. 

When breakfast is over, Gwen and Lance clean up and Arthur offers to help because he might be from the city but he still got manners to offer help. Gwen accepts graciously and he gets a kiss on his cheek for his efforts. Lance elbows him though which rattles Arthur and he’s all but ready to defend himself. Except then Lance laughs and swoops Gwen into a kiss, going so far as to dip her. 

Arthur’s getting fond of them, well, he’s already fond of Gwen; this, he remembers. She ain’t but six years older than them but he remembers her baking cookies for the church for when service is done and everyone’s welcome to some coffee and cookies. Arthur remembers taking two for himself and always saying he’s getting the other for Merlin, which wasn’t ever a lie but Merlin had always given half of his to Arthur because Arthur was an indulgent boy.  
Arthur’s starting to like Lance too, who is just three years older than Arthur. Lance is a nice man, the kind of man Arthur knows he can look up to and respect the hell out of. 

“Gwen?” Arthur is embarrassed to be asking this but he ain’t got no choice; it’s a small town, but Arthur’s forgotten where his house was, it’s been a lifetime, he feels like.

“Yes, dear?”

“I was wondering if you could give me the directions to my old house?”

Gwen grins, “Suppose you don’t remember, huh? Well, Lance is heading that way, maybe you could follow him.”

Arthur nods at her, thankful.

“I’m leaving in a couple of minutes.”

“Okay, I’ll be ready.”

Once Arthur’s ready, got his phone in his hands and his daddy’s voice in his head, he follows Lance outside and gets in his car but it don't turn on because Arthur ain’t that blessed with luck in this town. There ain’t no gas left in his tank which he really should have noticed but he was too busy with wanting to sleep and then seeing Merlin last night, it might have escaped his notice. 

“Shit.”

“Problem?”

Arthur clenches his fist around keys in his hand and nodded to Lance. Lance just answers with a smile; they’re a smiley couple, Lance and Gwen, almost too perfect. Arthur’s almost jealous of them. 

“I don’t have gas.”

Lance hums and gestures at his truck with his head, smiling, (does he ever stop?), “Hop on in, I’ll drive you down there.”

Arthur’s thankful but riding with Lance ain’t going to put gas back into his car. Lance is smart, clever. 

Intuitively he says, “I’ll pull you to the gas station when I get gas or bring you along and fill up some tanks. I’m kind of on a schedule, man. You coming?”

Arthur gets in the truck.

“Hey, how come you don’t sound like everyone else?”

“I ain’t from here,” is Lance’s cheeky response. Lance ain’t adopted the whole way everyone talks around him but he’s picking up little bits here and there. He’s only been here two years but it ain’t like Lance don’t have communication with the outside world. He calls Gwaine sometimes, because Gwaine would forget Lance existed if Lance don’t pester him. Lance calls Percy, his and Gwaine’s other friend from the band who didn’t join Lance and Gwaine in their little cross-country trip. Of course, Gwaine left and Lance stayed but Lance don’t regret nothing; Gwen’s the best thing to ever happen to him.

“When’d you move here?”

“Me and Gwaine came here, well we stopped here for a while, we were going to go to Camelot or Mercia and try to sell our music there. But we stayed here longer than we thought. I mean, he left two years ago. But I stayed.”

“Because of Gwen?”

“Right. That reminds me. I’ll have to call Gwaine later, make sure he’s not piss-drunk out of his mind. D’you reckon I should let Gwaine talk to Merlin? If he’s drunk maybe it’ll sober him up.” Reckon’s one of them words Lance has learned and inserted into his vocabulary. He’s laughing but it doesn’t escape him the way Arthur’s got a frown on his face but Lance doesn’t elaborate because he figures it ain’t his story to tell, least of all to this outsider. 

From then on, it’s a silent ride.

It doesn’t take a long time before they get to Arthur’s old house. It’s as pristine as Arthur remembers, even his mama’s garden out front is just as it looks the day they left. Which strikes Arthur as curious. 

But Lance just looks at what he’s looking at and says, “Oh, Miss Hunith takes care of those.”

All Arthur does is nod then thanks Lance for the ride. Lance tells him he’ll drop by again later to get him but Arthur tells him it’s okay, he can probably find his way around town. What kind of city boy would he be if he can’t even navigate this small town, how is he expected to command his father’s workforce if he ain’t even able to find his way here? 

Being here brings a tidal wave of memories.

The house is white with a red door. It’s faded red now. He ain’t been here in seven years but it brings back everything like a roll of waves in the ocean and while Arthur’s wading in the ocean all innocent, the waves go over his head, pushing him into the chaos of the current, he’s being pounded by it. 

There ain’t nothing in the living room, no pictures, no colour on the walls, no furniture. It’s empty. His daddy must have sent someone back to clean it out because Arthur knows they didn’t leave like this. Arthur took most his clothes and some of his treasures: his mama’s ring, her sigil, and the carved dragon Merlin gave to him. He’s got that one back in his room in Camelot, looks at it every night, thinks about how he left Merlin. It sobers him; on the days he gets roaring drunk, pressure just about to break him, he thinks about how he left Merlin, how dumb it was that he ain’t even tried to fight his daddy’s controlling ways. It reminds him of his teenage mistake. And makes him miss the best thing that ever happened to him. 

Arthur’s old bedroom is as vacant as all the other rooms. Ain’t even nothing in them to remind that someone used to live here. But someone did. He did, and sometimes Merlin did too. Merlin knew Arthur’s room as well as Arthur knew it himself. Merlin spent the same time there as Arthur did in Merlin’s. 

Closet’s where Arthur shoved Merlin the first time they kissed, afraid of Uther finding them in their compromising position, afraid of being 13 and being condemned to hell by his strict father. Closet’s where Arthur joined Merlin two seconds later because he realized that the thing that scared him most was losing Merlin.

Bathroom’s where Arthur touched Merlin for the first time, two stupid boys who thought they were stronger than Uther’s whiskey. Arthur was 14 and excited as hell, and learning for the first time how much it hurts and how good it feels.

Bed’s where Merlin told Arthur how he felt for the first time, on the verge of tears, because they ain’t but teenagers. It’s where Merlin turned into Arthur’s arm, letting the older one cradle him there, caress his hair, and kiss his forehead, reassure him he felt the same thing.

This house was witness to Arthur’s shenanigans. Where his mama kissed his hair, as light as her own, told him there ain’t nothing in the world that could break him, or make him feel smaller than he is, or make him feel bad about who he chooses to be.

Arthur thinks, even then, even when he was only ten years old, his mama already knew more about him than he did. 

Except, thinking about this house and how much it meant to his mama makes him feel sick to his stomach that they’re just planning on bulldozing over it, planning on building this impersonal structure above it’s wreckage like it weren’t nothing to nobody. All these memories this place’s bringing up ain’t helping Arthur with his daddy’s business. 

So Arthur ends up cutting this consultation short for today and plans to head back to the B&B to get some lunch. 

He’s walking down the road, sun beating down on him mercilessly, when he’s surprised by someone.

“Well, I’ll be. If it ain’t little Arthur Pendragon, all grown up.”

Arthur’s heart nearly leaps out of his chest when he sees Merlin’s mama and the little girl Merlin was with last night. She looks, not unlike them flowers in his own garden, as beautiful as the last time he saw her. And he doesn’t hesitate to tell her this as she stretches up to give him a proper hug. She’s lithe but she ain’t weak. She gives great hugs, the kind that his Mama used to give him and suddenly, Arthur feels very homesick never mind that he is home. Suddenly, he misses him Mama something fierce, misses her more than he ever has these past seven years. 

“Mrs. Emrys,” Arthur says, got a wide boyish smile on his face.

“Boy,” she tuts at him, “I known your Mama for 20 years. I helped raised you. You ain’t got but the right to call me Miss Hunith.”

Arthur relents, “Miss Hunith,” he breathes out because she’s right. She helped raised him when his Mama was starting to get sicker and sicker. She let him stay over at their house when he ain’t felt like going home, ain’t up to seeing his daddy crumble from the loss of his Mama. Miss Hunith’s and Merlin’s house was his second home, it always was. He wonders if it still is.

“How are you?” He asks.

Miss Hunith all but smiles fondly at him, “Never better, Arthur. How’s city life treating you?”

“Me and Morgana fit right in.”

She laughs because of course the Pendragon children would fit in everywhere. The little girl beside her looks up in confusion, “What’s so funny, grandmama?” 

Miss Hunith pats the little girl’s blonde head, “Ain’t nothing, honey. Have you met Mister Pendragon? Arthur, this here’s Elinor.”

Elinor, ever the polite child, puts a hand out, “My name’s Elinor Emrys. Ain’t you that mister who was lost last night?”

Arthur feels his cheeks heat up from embarrassment and nods, “Well, it’s definitely nice to formally meet you.”

“Well I hope you found Miss Gwen’s all right?”

Arthur smiles, “Yes, Merlin gave just the right directions. I got there in no time. And Gwen was a wonderful host.”

“I’m glad.”

Miss Hunith looks up at Arthur again, “Where you headed, Arthur? Me and Elinor headed down to Gwen’s to have some lunch. Merlin’s there working.”

Arthur wants to pretend like he’s busy and got a lot to do but he knows his mind (and heart) ain’t in it right now. Best get some lunch.

“I’m heading back there too actually.”

“Oh well then, we’ll walk with you.”

Miss Hunith talks and asks questions and Arthur politely answers every single one of them. She asks about his father, and Morgana, and everything else in between then and now. He’s struck by how much he misses talking to her. 

Elinor’s walking funny, well, she’s hop-scotching more than she’s walking and she’s way ahead of them now. 

“How old is she?” Arthur asks Merlin’s mama as he looks fondly at Elinor.

Miss Hunith smiles at Arthur and she got the same fond look he does, “She’ll be turning eight this September.” 

That’s all Arthur asks about Elinor.

She tells him about life here, this quiet hometown of hers, and for a brief moment Arthur doesn’t want her to ever find out his business here because they ain’t none of them dumb. They know he ain’t come back here for vacation. 

He’s spared the struggle of telling her and lying to her because soon enough they’re in front of Gwen’s and Elinor's disrupting the quiet lunch set-up by screaming.

“Papa!” She shouts and she runs to where Merlin’s standing, jumps into his arms like they ain’t seen each other but a couple of hours ago. Merlin’s radiant, Arthur notices, and he feels a little light-headed when he finally processes what Elinor done said. She’s calling Merlin her Papa and Arthur’s suddenly struck with such confusion. Ain’t no one told him that she was his daughter. Which makes sense if Arthur puts the puzzle pieces together. Then he feels a little woozy again thinking about how she came to be.

He catches Merlin’s eyes but Merlin breaks their connection faster than lightning strike. There’s something in the way he looked at Arthur though, that Arthur can’t figure out.

Luckily, Miss Hunith’s there to support him because he don’t even notice that he went a little weak in the knees, clutching onto the back of a chair. Miss Hunith supports his body like he don’t weigh twice her size and helps him onto the chair he’s holding. 

“Want some sweet tea, sugar?” Gwen says but she’s already pouring him a glass before he even responds. He smiles at her, momentarily distracted but then reality comes knocking again when Elinor and Merlin sits across from him.

They eat companionably like they’re one big happy family.

Tourists talk and Miss Hunith talks back, chatting them up sweetly. Gwen’s heating up a plate for Lance who’s come back home for lunch too. He eats standing up but Miss Hunith ain’t going to let him sacrifice food and rest since she knows he’s tired as hell. She scoots over, makes everyone on her side of the table scoot too so he can squeeze in his chair at the end there. Lance is ravenous. Arthur, on the other hand, feels like the potatoes are going to come back up out of him. 

Merlin’s asking Elinor about her day and telling her about his day too, how he’s been cleaning up rooms at the B&B, all kinds of things he found left behind by the tenants. She’s telling him about church and how the priest preaching about family values and whatnot. They talk about nothing too. These imaginary creatures Elinor thinks up, dragons and unicorns. Arthur remembers talking to Morgana about them when he was little and she said she’d be the princess but she ain’t got no need for a prince, she can handle the dragon herself, thank you very much. He remembers fondly how Merlin would tell him that the prince can fight alongside the magician if the princess doesn’t need him. 

Arthur manages to keep his food down all through lunch.

After lunch, when they all pitch in to take their respective plates to the kitchen for washing, Arthur heads straight to his room. He’s got to lie down or he’s afraid he’ll fall over and die. He ain’t been this dramatic since he was a boy; what is with this town?

He doesn’t know how long it is, but he’s tucked in his bed, arm over his face when he hears the very soft knocking at his door. Maybe if he pretends to be sleeping, they’ll just go away. When the knocking persists, Arthur just groans to indicate they’re welcome in. He doesn’t get up off the bed though. Might be considered rude, but he’s too drained to do anything right now.

“Arthur?” Merlin whispers his name like he’s unsure of it, as if somehow in the past seven years Arthur’s changed so much even his name ain’t the same no more.

But the way Merlin says it, Arthur begrudges, sounds like home. He sighs.

“Yeah?” Arthur responds but he keeps his arm over his eyes. He doesn't think he can look at Merlin right now.

“I ain’t avoiding you, you know.”

Arthur grunts, maybe he knows, maybe he doesn’t. 

Merlin continues, “It ain’t like you wrote to me. I didn’t have no way of knowing if you even cared for me at all. Y’all just up and left town. I didn’t know…”

Arthur’s annoyed now, “It was not my fault. My father made us leave and he made sure we couldn’t call anyone, or write any letters.”

Merlin’s sigh is louder than Arthur expected, so he lowers his arm and looks to where Merlin is. He’s hunching in on himself, reminds Arthur of that 15 year old boy he loved deeply because Merlin didn’t love himself enough. 

“Who’s Elinor’s mother?”

Arthur can see that Merlin wants to do nothing else but cry but the purse of his lips, that brave facade he puts on, makes him hold back the tears.

“She ain’t got no mama.”

Arthur scowls, “What, you picked her up abandoned somewhere or something?”

“No. Well, she got a mama but not really. It ain’t like that. It ain’t very normal how she came to be.”

“Tell me.”

Merlin doesn't move, doesn't say anything, and Arthur’s afraid Merlin will just run out of his room and never explain a damn thing. So Arthur, because he thinks he still knows a little about Merlin, moves to the left side of the bed (his side, always has been) then pats the other side. He even lifts up the duvet to let Merlin in, which Merlin obliges without protest. It makes him feel like they’re teenagers again. 

The bed’s warm and comfortable and Merlin thinks he might just fall asleep from exhaustion but the way Arthur’s looking at him tells him that he won’t be able to sleep unless he tells Arthur.

“I’m…It was me…she…” Merlin tries, he tries real hard but it’s difficult. He’s spent seven years trying to think of ways to tell Arthur but he ain’t ever expected it to be like this. This feels like if he told Arthur years ago even before Elinor came to be. This feels like what should have happened years ago when Merlin was going to tell him about his morning sickness and all the wonderful things he’d been feeling during the pregnancy. But it ain’t, which makes him brave too even if Arthur rejects the idea, he can’t tell Merlin to get rid of it because she’s already here.

Arthur finds his hand and entwines their fingers together. It gives Merlin enough courage.

“She’s mine. I gave birth to her seven years ago.”

Merlin looks away from Arthur because he doesn't want to know what Arthur’s thinking. Arthur tightens his grip on Merlin’s hand though and it’s enough to bring Merlin’s attention back to Arthur who looks like he’s got a hundred million questions and can’t decide which to ask first.

“Okay. She’s yours then. Who’s the father?” He asks with bitter tone and for a second, Merlin thinks it’s because Arthur don't want Merlin to say that it’s him, that Arthur is praying that it ain’t him because he doesn't want it to be. Merlin doesn't want to tell him. 

“Who was it?” Arthur repeats but this time he sounds like he’s desperate for the answer and then Merlin realizes that Arthur won’t be able to stand the answer if the answer wasn’t him. 

It’s been seven years but Arthur is still an open book to Merlin. 

“Don’t, Arthur. Don’t…don’t do that like you don’t already know.”

Arthur seems very confused, “Is it Gwaine?”

Merlin almost slaps him, “Gwaine? What are you talking about?”

“Lance told me about him. Well, he didn’t really. He just said you knew each other.”

Merlin almost laughs but he schools his face to be serious again, “It ain’t Gwaine.”

“Then…”

“Arthur, I swear! It’s all right if outside of here you want to pretend it didn’t happen but please, please don’t let me think that you forgot that night.”

Arthur still dreams about that night. What happened that night all those years, his daddy rousing him and Morgana from their sleep, Arthur remembers it clearly because he hadn't even been sleeping, just pretending, 'cause he'd only just scaled the side of his own house, crawled in through his window and pretended he'd been sleeping for hours. Arthur can never forget that night. 

“Merlin, I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

Merlin shrugs, “Well how could you? And then when I found out you’d left that morning, I thought it was because you regretted the whole thing and I felt so dumb, Arthur. Like I wasn’t worth nothing.”

“Merlin,” Arthur says breathlessly and pulls Merlin’s body flush against his. The embrace is as tight as he can make it. 

Arthur wants the tightness of the hug to say that he wants to do right by them, by Merlin and Elinor. And that if they’d have him, he wants to be in their life. He can feel Merlin’s tears through his shirt and Arthur kisses his forehead like he’d done all those years ago before he left Merlin naked and sated and loved.

“Does Elinor know…about me?”

He feels Merlin shake his head and then nod. Arthur smiles down at him, confused. Merlin just grins back up at him like he ain’t wanting to explain to Arthur why he ain’t got a clear answer.

“She knows she has another daddy. She just doesn’t know it’s you. She likes you though, told me so at dinner. That’s why I came up here. Because I know what it was like when my daddy weren’t around. And I know I’m enough for her, Arthur but I ain’t enough for me.”

Arthur frowns at Merlin because Merlin’s got that down-trodden look on his face and Arthur’s weakness has always been that he ain’t ever want to see Merlin look like that. 

“You really hurt me, Arthur. When you gone and left.”

It ain’t his fault, Arthur wants to say again but he doesn’t.

Instead, he says, long overdue, “I’m sorry.”

“Were you okay? When you went away, and realized you couldn’t ever speak to me again, how did you feel, Arthur?”

Hurt and confused. 

“I didn’t talk to my father for two whole days.”

He had felt weak. He had felt like a child. Like a little boy who doesn’t have any say in his life. He had felt like Camelot was hell. He had felt like his father was a tyrant, and not like his father at all. He had felt responsible for leaving Merlin. 

Now, he feels guilty as hell for not having tried his best to contact Merlin. Feels awful for not knowing that there was this little girl who looked like him, and who was his. 

“I need you,” Merlin says sincerely, looking up at Arthur. “I feel like I shouldn’t anymore, but damn, Arthur, I still do. Do you know how it feels to be 16 and know there’s this life growing inside you, and knowing one day she’ll come out and she’ll be the most precious little thing on earth and feel like you don’t deserve her because you’re still just a child yourself, because you don’t have any idea how to raise her, because you know she’ll be the talk of ridicule? 

“I don’t need you. I shouldn’t have to. But Elinor’s turning eight, and it’ll be a crime to keep you from her. Especially because I know what her birthday wish is going to be. The same thing every year. I was going to tell her this year anyway, but then you came and it’s like…” Merlin pauses, like there’s too many and too little words for it. 

Arthur likes the word destiny.

“I’d like that,” Arthur tells him. “I want her to know.”

“Good.”

And it is. 

They fall asleep to each other’s heartbeat, beating strong and true. They sleep ’til it’s dinner time. 

Elinor just blinks at them when they tell her. Merlin’s waiting for some ball to drop, Arthur’s waiting for the other shoe.

Merlin can tell she’s confused, but only for a second. Her eyes light up. They’re blue like the summer sky. They’re blue like blue moon ice cream. They’re blue like Arthur’s eyes. They’re wide and accepting and understanding. Merlin damn near cries. 

Elinor jumps up from where she’s sitting and jumps into Arthur’s embrace. 

“Good,” she declares. 

Good, they decide. And that’s that. Because Elinor can’t ask for more than that. She’s been asking for this for a long time. And to her, Arthur’s better than nothing. Arthur’s better than a lot of things. 

Arthur’s got money. Which ain’t a measurement of his value to her but Elinor knows what little money they have ain’t the greatest thing on earth. She ain’t stupid. 

Arthur’s nice to her. And to her papa. Arthur’s funny, sometimes. 

“Do I get to call you my daddy now?” She asks. Her smile ain’t something Arthur can turn away from. 

“Sure,” Arthur says. Maybe he chokes a little, trying to hold back tears that are threatening to come out his eyes. Maybe his breath catches in his throat from the feeling he gets when this little girl tries to hug him. Maybe Arthur’s heart stops all the sudden from seeing the way Merlin’s looking at both of them. 

“Daddy, and Papa,” Elinor squeals with joy. 

Two days later, Arthur’s reported back to his daddy that he might need a little more time convincing everyone else of his daddy’s idea. Truth is, he ain’t told nobody about why he’s really here. And the person he can’t convince most is himself. How can he let his mama’s house be torn down, even if it’s for a huge business venture like this? 

“Where’s your daddy at, Miss Elinor?”

It’s after lunch and Elinor’s playing with a newly picked bouquet of flowers that Arthur picked for her when her Uncle Will comes into the picture. They’re sitting on the porch of Miss Hunith’s house and Arthur’s just finished taking a phone call from his daddy when Will asks Elinor where her daddy is. 

Elinor beams up at her Uncle Will, “He’s right here,” she says, points to Arthur because she’s recently learned that her Papa and Mister Arthur were her parents and she’s been ecstatic to have him here. Well, she thinks he’s here to visit her but Arthur ain’t say nothing that might tell her otherwise.

“Not…You sly girl. Where’s your Papa at, then?” 

Elinor’s distracted by her flowers but she spares her Uncle Will a look and tells him, “Miss Alice’s baby’s coming,” like it explains everything which Arthur supposes it does because Will ain’t ask anything further. And how those two old folks got pregnant, Will doesn’t know but he ain’t doubting the Lord’s fate. He’s leaning on the wood railing of the front porch steps eyeing Arthur like he’s the devil-incarnate. 

Arthur understands that Will ain’t ever liked him. Maybe because he was Merlin’s best friend but Merlin chose to spend all his spare time with Arthur which ain’t Arthur’s fault. It ain’t his fault Will’s boring as a post. Or maybe because Will knows what happened all those years ago and ain’t got nothing but unpleasant thoughts about Arthur. Arthur ain’t asking to be forgiven by Will though, he ain’t the one Arthur done wrong.

Will looks like he wants to spit some comment, some judgement at Arthur but decides against it because of Elinor’s presence. Will just shrugs and pops himself off the railing.

“Tell him I was looking for him.”

“Will do,” Arthur says because Elinor ain’t listening no more.

It’s a hot day and Arthur’s daddy’s breathing down on his neck even though he’s miles away from Ealdor. His daddy’s got miles of invisible string controlling Arthur like a puppet. This is their livelihood though, this company. Pendragon Inc. is his daddy’s greatest achievement, it’s his baby. And Arthur really ought to be offended but he can’t help but think he doesn’t care enough. He’s still got to do this for his daddy though because this is his job and it’s what brought him back here, otherwise he’d never have reunited with Merlin again. 

Except, they ain’t really reunited. They ain’t in any kind of relationship except being Elinor’s daddies, sharing custody of her. He doesn’t blame either of them for it. Maybe Merlin’s still in love with this Gwaine fellow. And Arthur knows there ain’t no way he can stay here forever. Maybe it’s better this way after all. Ain’t no trail of broken hearts following him back to Camelot.

“Hey, Ellie,” Arthur brushes away stray hairs from Elinor’s face. He can’t stop thinking ‘bout how she looks like his mama, how she looks like him. He figured out she smiles brighter than the sun itself when he calls her Ellie. Elinor’s beautiful with Arthur’s hair and Arthur’s eyes and Merlin’s ears and Merlin’s grin.

“Who’s Gwaine?”

Arthur ain’t supposed to ask Elinor about Gwaine. It’s probably immoral or something but the curiosity’s gnawing at him like hell and he needs to scratch the damn itch.

Elinor puts down her bouquet of flowers on her lap and then smiles at her daddy. It might be new to her that Mister Arthur is much more than a stranger, that he’s her daddy but she accepts it like it ain’t nothing out of the ordinary. She likes having two daddies; it makes her feel special. 

“Uncle Gwaine’s a real good friend of Papa. The other year, he took us to the fair!”

“The fair?”

“Yes, sir, over at Mercia. It wasn’t a long drive but I fell asleep on the way. Uncle Gwaine gave me cotton candy to wake me up. Him and Papa held my hand all day. They was afraid I was going to get lost.”

“Does your Papa like him a lot, then?”

Elinor nods, beaming up at him. She doesn’t notice the wry tone in his voice, or the forced smile he has plastered on his face. Or how he must be green with jealousy. 

“Mhmm…He misses him. I miss him too. I hope he comes back real soon. Oh, daddy! I think y’all would make good friends. Uncle Gwaine’s from the city too.”

They revel in pleasant silence for a while with Elinor admiring her flowers again, telling Arthur’s it’s for her grandmama. Arthur feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and for a moment he thinks he’s going to ignore it and damn the consequences but it already feels like he’s living a lie here. He answers.

Uther’s shouting in his ear but he ain’t screaming murder.

“Dad! Dad, calm down. What’s up?”

“Son! Listen.” And Arthur does. His daddy gushes about investors, about how many people willing to give money to open up the strip mall, to urbanize this derelict town. Arthur doesn’t say nothing, not until Uther prompts him, and even then, Arthur just grunts out a reply. When the call’s ended, Arthur pockets his phone again but he can’t hide his frown. 

Elinor looks at him and she notices it. She’s a smart young girl and she knows there’s something wrong. Arthur’s frown reminds her of when she saw her Papa frowning the day Uncle Gwaine left. She knows something ain’t right. 

“Was that your daddy?” Elinor asks and Arthur pretends he ain’t frowning no more but Elinor’s damn sure somewhere deep inside him, there’s still that sadness or frustration or whatever he’s got harbouring inside of him.

“Yes, it was.”

“Is he my granddaddy then?”

Arthur doesn't answer for a few seconds. And Elinor can guess what that pause means. It’s the same kind of pause her Papa made when Elinor used to ask about her other daddy. It means that there’s an answer, but it’s one she won’t like, or won’t really understand. 

“Your mama was beautiful,” Elinor changes the subject.

“How do you know about my mother?”

“Grandmama’s got pictures in the house, and the albums. Y’all look very much alike, sir.”

Arthur’s got that look on his face where he doesn’t know whether it’s okay to cry, or whether it’s better to smile. Elinor reaches out her hand and pats his own. She thinks he doesn’t realize that he’s trembling. 

“Do you want to see them?” Elinor asks and Arthur stares at her for a moment, very unsure, but then they smile at each other and it helps Arthur make his decision. 

“Yes, I would like that very much.”

“Well, come on, then.”

They walk back to her house which is no feat at all. It’s two blocks down Arthur’s house which means there’s only five houses between them, but the Pendragons always had a large property so their house sticks out like oasis in the desert. Elinor asks to hold Arthur’s hand the whole way.

Merlin’s house is small, and Arthur doesn’t remember it being this cramped before. Maybe it’s because he’s grown so much and the space just seems a lot less. But he remembers when they were young and they hid in Merlin’s mama’s cupboards, hiding from the adults like they owned the secrets of the universe and weren’t going to share them with anyone else but each other.

Miss Hunith’s not home which is fine because Arthur’s there to supervise Elinor. That’s why Miss Hunith left her with him in the first place. She said she’s going to spend the day over at Will’s mama’s house, help her look after the children, and Will’s brother’s children whose mama was a tenant at Miss Gwen’s one time or another who gone up and left Ealdor the moment she gave birth to the twins. At least, that’s what Miss Hunith told him. Which Arthur ain’t judging, seeing as he’s got very nearly the same situation.

Merlin’s house ain’t change much. Same old couch, same old dining table, same colour mismatched walls. But Arthur can see the glaring places where Elinor fits. There’s an extra cushion on one of the dining chairs to prop up Elinor when she’s eating. There’s pictures of her on the walls. There’s colouring books tucked in the small bookshelf they have, beside some medical books Merlin probably owns. 

The couch is comfortable when Elinor makes him sit on it even though he knows it’s as old or maybe even older than he is. Then she settles beside him, holding an album bigger than her. 

When she opens it, Arthur’s mama’s face smiles up at him. It were his mama and Miss Hunith when they were young before his mama went to Camelot to go to college, before she married his daddy and made them relocate back to her hometown. 

“She’s beautiful,” Elinor says in awe. 

Arthur nods, and then, because it’s true, he puts an arm around her and says, “You look like her too.”

Elinor blushes because her Papa’s said it many times before but she doesn’t think she ever really believed it as much then as she does now. She turns the page.

It’s a picture of Miss Hunith on her wedding day and she’s radiant. 

Then a picture of Merlin as a baby. And then Merlin and Arthur as babies, sleeping side-by-side like they were always meant. 

There’s a lot of pictures of him and Merlin actually. They’re two little boys in matching Christmas sweaters, and two teenagers wearing reindeer hats, and then it’s Merlin and a baby Elinor, no Arthur in the picture. Arthur tells her she’s the cutest little baby he’s ever seen and Elinor smiles at him. And it always kills him how much she looks like her Papa, how much he’s wasted years not knowing this.

There’s a lot of pictures of Elinor growing up and she’s telling him about every single one of them that Arthur doesn’t even realize that it’s almost already dinnertime until the door opens and Merlin comes in, looking bone tired. Arthur damn near jumps off the couch to take Merlin into his arms. Elinor does though, because Elinor can. She jumps into Merlin’s arms and Merlin’s so happy to see her that she’s weightless in his weary arms. 

All the while, Merlin stares at Arthur like he ain’t decided yet whether Arthur being here is good or bad. It’s good for Elinor to get to know her daddy. But Merlin doesn’t know what he’ll get out of this, because he ain’t thick, he knows Arthur ain’t come back for him. Arthur has his own agenda and whatever it is, it ain’t of Arthur’s own independent volition. But Merlin ain’t going to say it right to Arthur’s face. Merlin just ain’t going to get his hopes up. He learned that lesson years ago with Arthur, learned it again when Gwaine came into his life. 

“How’s your day been, sweetheart?” Merlin asks and Elinor talks a mile a minute. Merlin’s attention drifts to Arthur sometimes, studying his face. But Arthur just has the same smile on his face when Elinor talks. 

Merlin’s still got Arthur in his mind when Elinor asks him something, which he misses due to the fact that he’s apparently been staring at Arthur longer than he thought.

“Papa, how’s Miss Alice’s baby?”

“Miss Alice got a little boy. Named him Mordred.”

“Do I get to play with Mordred?”

“Not now, but in a few weeks. Let them settle down first.”

“Gaius must be proud, huh?” Arthur asks, grinning at Merlin. 

“He should be. It was touch and go for while but Miss Alice’s stronger than she looks, that’s for damn sure.”

“And you?”

Merlin raises an eyebrow, like Arthur’s talking nonsense, “Me what?”

“You’re okay?”

Merlin laughs, “Yes, I am, thank you.”

They don’t say nothing else to each other and they sit there quietly, contemplating each other, figuring out what’s appropriate to say to one another.

“You look tired, though.”

Merlin grins at him, head thrown against the back of the couch, “I’m hungry. You hungry, Elinor?”

Elinor nods, “Yes, sir.” 

She hops off the couch, and runs to the kitchen which ain’t nothing but three strides to Arthur and Merlin. 

“Elinor…” Merlin starts to scold her but she’s already where she needs to be, there ain’t no point. Merlin just shakes his head.

Elinor’s a terribly smart girl. She’s got two plates set at the table, waiting for Merlin to put the food on it.

“I guess…I’ll just…” Arthur starts talking but Merlin shushes him with a pleasant smile.

“Ain’t no trouble, Arthur. Stay for dinner. That is…if you ain’t otherwise preoccupied.”

“Gwen won’t miss me for one night.”

“You’re probably right.”

Elinor’s listening in on their conversation so she stands up from where she’s already placed herself and gets another plate and set of utensils. 

“Thank you,” Arthur tells her as he sits where Merlin usually sits. The table only has three chairs; that’s why Will comes over and eats on the couch, as long as he ain’t a slob.

Merlin sets down a basket of biscuits, and warm fried chicken, and stock and rice for soup. 

Arthur picks at the fried chicken like he ain’t got manners.

“Oh…” Elinor says, staring expectantly at Arthur. He stares back, confused.

“First bite’s got grace,” is all Merlin says and Arthur’s red in the face but it’s house rules so he goes along with it. Merlin holds his hand and Elinor holds the other.

Arthur leads prayer and then smiles throughout dinner. He compliments Merlin over and over. He’s getting used to home cooked meal. He doesn’t think he’ll ever really go back to takeout foods in Camelot when he goes home. Arthur’s very aware now of all the things he’s missing out. The home cooked meals, the comforting silence of the town, the way everyone’s practically family around here, there’s always someone to go to for when you need help. This must be why his mama was so insistent on raising him and Morgana here instead of Camelot where his daddy grew up. This must be why she loved this town so much.

After dinner, they look at more pictures because Merlin hauls out two more albums from where his mama keeps them in a drawer in her room. One is all Merlin’s daddy and Merlin, that’s for his mama. And the other one is of friends and family which contains a lot of pictures of Miss Igraine and Hunith before they were separated by Miss Igraine going to college in the city. There’s a lot of Arthur and Morgana too. Pictures Arthur probably ain’t ever seen in his life. 

Merlin tells Elinor about those, about all of them pictures until he feels Elinor’s weight on him and he realizes she’s dozing off.

“It’s bed time, ain’t it, girl?” Elinor mumbles what Merlin thinks is a yes and he’s fixin’ to carry her up to her room when Arthur scoops Elinor up by himself. Merlin silently thanks him because he knows that he’s okay but he ain’t got that much strength left in him, not enough to carry the seven year old girl all the way up the stairs. 

“No problem,” Arthur says. He’s cradling Elinor in his arms as he goes up them rickety old stairs.

Merlin’s slightly embarrassed but he’s relieved too that Arthur don’t say nothing about it. Arthur’s probably got one of them spiral staircases in his big old mansion in Camelot. A right step up from their little house here. 

Merlin opens Elinor’s door for him and Arthur very carefully deposits Elinor onto her bed. Merlin kisses her forehead when she’s tucked in. Then he looks over to Arthur and he knows Arthur wants badly to be able to do the same. 

“Go on, she’s your daughter, too.”

Arthur kisses Elinor the way his mama used to kiss him during bedtime. 

“Good night, Ellie.”

Merlin and Arthur close the door behind them and they stand outside Elinor’s room awkward as all hell. 

Merlin moves first, taking Arthur’s wrist in his hand, pulling him gently down the stairs. Merlin thinks he has to have a hold of Arthur or he’s afraid Arthur will run. They got so many things to talk about before Merlin can really move on. Because seven years is a long time but it ain’t long enough. It ain’t enough to forget that he loved Arthur, even though he was 15 when they first made love, two weeks shy of his 16th birthday. It ain’t enough years for him to forget Arthur because he sees him every day in Elinor. 

“You’re a good daddy, you know that?”

Arthur seems taken aback by Merlin’s words. They sit back down on the couch and Merlin closes all the albums.

“I don’t…” Arthur’s unsure of what to say. 

“I didn’t ever think you’d come back.”

“I would have if I…”

“I know, Arthur. I know. When I turned 18, Mama got me a small cake she baked from scratch, borrowing ingredients from Will’s mama and Miss Gwen. It didn’t taste gourmet or anything but it was good and it was enough. Elinor was just turning two and she was already terrible. You know how babies are. They’re chewing on everything, drool everywhere. On my birthday, I wished…god, all I asked for was for you to come back, come share this responsibility with me. Because Mama ain’t as young as she was. And Elinor was my child, she was my baby. Mama shouldn’t have to stay up all night taking care of my little girl. 

You didn’t come back though and that’s when I knew I had to face it. Elinor was here and she’s mine and I had to do everything I could so she could grow up wanting for nothing. That’s when I said okay, you have to deal with the fact that Arthur may never come back here, he may never know her, and that’s okay because she won’t miss what she doesn’t have, what she doesn’t know she have.”

Arthur feels wretched. He should, but he also shouldn’t. It ain’t his fault. 

“I’m going to make it up to you, Merlin. You and Elinor, I promise.”

Merlin sighs and he’s got a small frown on his lips which Arthur doesn’t understand because he’s right here willing to work through this with Merlin.

“Oh, Arthur,” Merlin whispers; it’s almost a plea.

“What? Merlin, I swear. I’ll make it up to you, if you want me to.”

“Arthur, don’t go promising things you can’t keep. We both know you ain’t here for me or Elinor. You’re here because you’ve got something to do, something that doesn’t include us. I ain’t leaving Ealdor and you sure as hell ain’t going to stay. You’ve got a life in Camelot, a good one. It’s enough that you know who Elinor is, that she knows you. That’s enough, Arthur. You don’t have to go promising us anything.”

There’s a response that Arthur knows he has to say but all the words are struck in his throat, like his breath. Because Merlin’s right. He got a life in Camelot. He’s here for business. 

He stares at Merlin even though Merlin ain’t looking at him anymore. Merlin’s trying to look away because his eyes shining with tears. Arthur finds his words too late when someone knocks at the door.

“Merlin, it’s Lance.”

Merlin brushes away his tears right quick and gets up off the couch. He plasters on a smile when he opens the door for Lance. Lance probably notices his eyes and his fake smile but Lance don’t say nothing about it. Instead, he thrusts his phone to Merlin’s hand.

“Gwaine wants to talk to you.”

“Oh…” Merlin takes the phone and nods at Lance to come in. Lance greets Arthur where he’s sitting on the couch still trying to think, to process what’s happened. 

At the mention of Gwaine, Arthur snaps out his thoughts and tries to keep an ear on Merlin’s conversation even though Merlin’s in the kitchen and Lance is talking to Arthur about this and that. 

Arthur tries to pay attention to both Merlin and Lance but it’s too obvious that his head ain’t with him when he fails to reply to Lance. So Arthur keeps his attention to Lance asking about dinner. Maybe it’ll be less painful not hearing what Merlin talks about with Gwaine. Lance stops talking just as Merlin’s phone call ends. And it ends with Merlin very clearly saying, “Love you too. I’ll be seeing you.”

When Merlin comes back to the living room, he gives Lance his phone back and then looks at Arthur who ain’t looking back at him. 

“Lance, wait, I’ll ride back with you.”

“Okay, I’ll wait outside.”

Arthur purposely ignores Merlin trying to protest, asking him if he wants to talk more. Arthur shakes his head.

“You’re right, Merlin. I should not have said that. It is enough that I know Elinor and she knows me. If you ever need anything, you can call me. But I won’t impose like this anymore.”

“Arthur, that ain’t…” Merlin tries to say something back but when he sees the look in Arthur’s eyes, he knows there ain’t nothing he can say. They share this quiet understanding and then Arthur’s already half out the door.

Merlin knows everything’s messed up now but he can’t stop Arthur from running, and he can’t let himself get hurt again. It’s better all around if they don’t ever have that teenage relation they had once. It was nothing. It was them just being two foolish boys. It gave them just one good thing: Elinor. And that’s enough.

The next morning, Arthur realizes that he really needs gas.

Lance offers to drive him to the nearest gas station because Ealdor’s too small, and Lance and Elyan and Old Man Simmons are the only ones who got a truck around here. 

Just as they're heading out of town, they hear Merlin shouting after them and running after them. He’s a damn good sprinter, doesn’t even break a sweat when he catches up to them. Lance rolls down his window.

"Any chance I could hitch a ride? Gaius and Elyan's sending me out on fetching duty. Need some supplies.” Merlin shoots Lance a blistering smile.

And Lance, Arthur learns, ain’t a soul to say no to Merlin either.

Arthur gets out the truck to let Merlin slide in. He ain’t about to stay in the middle seat, it'll make him feel trapped like a specimen under scrutiny or something. He takes the window seat so he ain’t in the way of Merlin and Lance conversing with each other. Which proves to be a stupid idea because Merlin and Lance get to talking about Gwaine and how he done so well, how he got arenas full of fans.

Lance nudges Merlin which catches Arthur by surprise too. Lance talks about how one of Gwaine’s best selling songs is the one about Merlin. Merlin's redder than fresh picked tomatoes. His cheeks turn the colour of roses.

Arthur tries real bad to shut them out. He just looks out the window, watches the aureolin fields of the country side pass him by. For a while it's good, Arthur’s eyes almost close.

Suddenly, he hears Merlin singing. It ain’t loud. It's him half humming and half singing but he carries a fine tune, sweet on the ears. It makes Arthur smile despite himself.

Merlin could always sing. This was Arthur's favourite thing about him. Because when Merlin sang, Arthur could close his eyes pretend he’s got an angel beside him and forget about the world; forget his mama coughing herself to death, forget how his father’s retreating in on himself, not talking to his children, and he forgets Morgana's red-rimmed eyes, asking why mama can’t play with her outside all day long no more.

Merlin's beautiful; he’s surreal when he sings. When they were young, the first time they laid in bed naked, but weren't brave enough to have sex, just barely brave enough to hold each other close, Arthur had his arm over Merlin’s torso, his face buried deep in Merlin's soft hair when Merlin sang them both lullabies until dark turned into light, until their heartbeats became one.

It's still Arthur's favourite thing.

Lance starts singing with Merlin and they make a pair. Arthur wonders how good a pair Merlin and Gwaine would have made. 

It ain’t an easy drive down to Escetir, what with the roads being constructed and whatnot. So their two hour ride’s basically double that time. Arthur manages to doze off after Lance turns down his offer to switch drivers for a while. 

“It’s okay, Arthur. I know these roads.”

“We don’t want to be getting lost, do we, Arthur?” Merlin asks, the little shit. Arthur finds himself chuckling at Merlin. Lance laughs too. 

“It’s just a straight road, Merlin,” Arthur counters, trying to defend his honour.

Merlin shrugs, “Ealdor’s got one straight road too and you got lost then.”

“Okay, okay. I get it,” Arthur puts his hands up in surrender. The radio’s playing real quiet now. Lance ain’t talking and Merlin’s stopped singing.

Arthur’s closing his eyes when he feels a weight against him. He opens his eyes slightly and sees Merlin sleeping against him.

Arthur smiles and if Lance sees it, he doesn’t say anything about it and for that, Arthur’s thankful.

Arthur doesn’t know how long he’s out for, but when he wakes up, Merlin’s still asleep against his shoulder and it’d be a right crime if he jostles Merlin off of him. Merlin looks peaceful in his sleep.

“I don’t reckon he’s been sleeping a lot these days, or sleeping right,” Lance says, not too loudly, minding Merlin’s sleeping form.

“Why not?” Arthur asks.

“Gwaine’s been calling every night. The time difference has Gwaine calling when he’s awake which is inconvenient for Merlin because it’s usually near midnight here.”

Arthur creases his brow, “Why doesn’t he just not answer Gwaine’s phone call?”

Lance looks at Arthur like he’s crazy but then his expression softens and Arthur’s a little afraid that Lance can see right through him.

“Merlin’s too good to not take Gwaine’s call. And Gwaine won’t stop calling until Merlin picks up. I think they miss each other. Well, Gwaine does.”

“That why he writes songs about Merlin?”

Lance smirks, “You jealous, Arthur?”

Arthur shakes his head and looks down at Merlin. 

“Can’t be jealous of what you’ve never had.”

“I know that isn’t true, Arthur. I may be an outsider here but Gwen is not. You and Merlin used to know each other, when you were boys?”

Arthur nods, “It’s been a long time since we were boys.”

“But you did. You had him once. Even if it was long ago. You had him and he had you. That’s a veritable basis for jealousy.”

“If Merlin loves Gwaine, I’m not going to stop him,” Arthur declares, and apparently, it’s the most ridiculous thing to come out his mouth because it sends Lance stifling a laughter like a mad man, like it’s the funniest joke he’s ever heard. 

“Gwaine is not the kind of guy you take back home to your mom. Gwaine’s the kind of guy you take back home when your parents are hounding you about getting a boyfriend. And he’ll do you the favour, show up, and pretend. And he’ll be great, because he’s Gwaine. But Gwaine is not for Merlin. Gwaine’s not settling down anytime soon, believe me.

“I think the question you want to ask yourself now is, if you’re any different than Gwaine at all. Because it’s great that you’ve come to know Elinor, and have the chance at being her parent, her father. But you don’t live in Ealdor anymore, Arthur. Merlin and Elinor do, though. So it’s okay if you want to play house while you’re down here, but are you willing to give up what you have in Camelot to be with your family here?”

And doesn’t that just make Arthur speechless, and thoughtful.

When they get to Escetir, Lance buys gas and Merlin walks away by himself. He looks like he can disappear in the crowd, and Arthur thinks that Merlin’s perfectly capable of living in Camelot, perfectly capable of integrating into society, perfectly able to leave Ealdor and be with Arthur in Camelot. 

“I’ll be back,” Merlin says, waving his phone and then pocketing it.

Lance waves back at him and Arthur just watches him go.

Arthur doesn’t feel as lost in Escetir; it’s far closer to what Camelot’s like and Arthur feels familiar here. There’s, honest-to-god roads, and shops by them roads, and people. A whole lot of people who probably don’t know each other since they were born. 

It makes Arthur feel guilty all the sudden because he’s tearing down Ealdor in his mind already, he’s thinking about how much there isn’t in Ealdor, how truly small and inconsequential the place is. Arthur feels guilty for thinking these things. But they ain’t lies.

Ealdor’s a good town. But it ain’t anything. Just a one-horse town that ain’t got much in the way of living really. It’s like a commune. It feels like a commune. Eating meals together and knowing each and every person like they’re blood. It strikes Arthur then, how close the people there are. How they’re one big family. And it sobers him, this thought, because Merlin ain’t Arthur’s family. Merlin is from Ealdor, and that’s his family: Elinor, his mama, Gwen and Lance, Gaius, Elyan, and Will. That’s Merlin’s family and Arthur doesn’t feel right about taking Merlin and Elinor away from them. 

But Arthur’s from Camelot. He’s high level traffic, and buildings as tall as mountains. He comes from where people talk over each other into their phones when they’re in crowded places and from where people don’t pay attention to anyone else’s business. Arthur is boarding schools and ivy leagues. He’s fast, colourful cars and ever-available helicopters. 

Arthur is the son of a merciless business tycoon.

Arthur is a person who knows family doesn’t control the way you think or feel, but who can’t help always following his daddy’s orders. He knows family doesn’t abandon each other but Morgana’s living with her boyfriend three years older than her, just to have some kind of independence from their daddy’s controlling ways. He knows that family and home are more important than money or fame. 

Suddenly, Arthur ain’t sure in his knowledge of who and where family and home are.

“So,” Lance inquires while they’re waiting for the tank to fill. “Your dad’s coming to Ealdor, why exactly?”

Arthur sighs deeply, and then runs a hand through his hair. 

“Business.”

“What business does he have there?”

“Big. Big business. He wants to urbanize it.”

Lance nods but he’s skeptical. Arthur can see the way Lance’s eyebrows are knit together in confusion and wonder.

“Urbanize,” Lance repeats, and the word sounds like spitting out poison. “He wants to upheave everyone living there and what, build his own city?”

It sounds ridiculous, because it is. It makes Arthur crack up, this guttural resentful laugh.

“Basically.” Basically, his daddy’s going to make Arthur do what he wants, like he always has. Basically, Arthur ain’t got the mind to tell his daddy off. 

“And you’re really going to let that happen?”

Arthur shrugs, “I’m sure my father’s right.”

Lance huffs, “Is he? Because there are real people who live in Ealdor, Arthur. That is their home.”

“We’ll build apartment blocks, or something.”

“And they’ll live there for free, right?”

“That’s not how business is done, Lance. My father deals in business, not charity.” 

In the days Arthur’s been in Ealdor, he ain’t ever seen Lance angry. But Lance’s face now is coming close to looking like it’s on fire. 

“You’re going to take people out of their own homes, build on their land, and then have the audacity to make them pay for it? That’s bullshit, Pendragon.”

Lance is pissed and he’s down right scary like this.

“I can’t stop him, Lance. He’ll buy out Ealdor. He’ll do anything to get rid of that town. To change it so much so that no one will be able to reconcile their home and this new city. It’s safer to go along with it. I can’t promise anything, but I’m going to make them see reason. Everyone in Ealdor. I’ll make sure they’re compensated, I swear to God, Lance.”

The truck’s tank is full, and the plastic gas tanks for Arthur’s car. Lance puts it in the back of the truck. In the distance, Arthur can see Merlin hefting three big bags full of supplies. Lance, because he’s a better man than Arthur, goes directly to Merlin to help him. 

Air in the truck changes when they head back to Ealdor. Lance won’t look at Arthur, not even a side-eye. Arthur thinks that Merlin can sense the tension between them but he doesn’t comment. Instead, Merlin digs into one of the bags to present them with donuts. 

“Thanks,” Arthur says and bites a piece of it. It’s fresh and it takes like heaven.

Merlin gives one to Lance too but seeing as Lance needs his hands to drive, Merlin helps him out by guiding the donut to Lance’s mouth. If he weren’t already Gwen’s, Arthur would think Lance has a claim on Merlin, the way they acting. Arthur is aware his jealousy is misplaced. Merlin and Lance act like they’re the best of friends when it should be Arthur in that position. It could have been Arthur if his daddy weren’t unreasonable. 

After he eats the donut, Arthur fakes sleeping. Merlin must have taken the bait because he starts talking to Lance about Gwaine. Arthur almost grunts in annoyance. Who the hell is Gwaine? Why is he so goddamn important?

“He’s coming back,” he hears Merlin’s calm voice.

“What, to Ealdor?” Lance inquires and Arthur can hear a tiny bit of disbelief in his voice.

“In a week, maybe sooner. He ain’t tell me the details. Just say he’s coming.”

Lance doesn’t reply.

So Merlin continues, “D’you think he’s changed? Every time he calls, it always sounds loud in the background. Can’t even hear him most of the time. I’m not stupid Lance, I know he’s been sleeping with… Well, I ain’t his doormat. Can’t just welcome him into my life whenever’s comfortable with him.”

“He’s the stupid one, Merlin. He doesn’t know all of that. He thinks that just because you’re there once means that you’ll always be there, that you’ll always wait.”

Merlin looks at Lance and sees his forlorn expression. 

Merlin whispers, “You loved him.”

“That was a long time ago,” Lance sounds resigned. “When we were ignorant teenagers. Before Gwen. Before I knew what I wanted. Before I found the love of my life.”

“Me and Arthur. That was a long time ago, too.” Merlin wants to know if Arthur is what Gwaine was to Lance. Is he the mistake? Is he the before? 

“Seven years is nothing, Merlin. Me and Gwaine, we ended twelve years ago. But even that’s not a good measure. Seven years could be twenty, but if you still love Arthur then that’ll never change. I did love Gwaine. Long ago. But he wasn’t my destiny, you know. I actually thank Gwaine. If it wasn’t for his unruly love of travelling, we wouldn’t have ever ended up in Ealdor. And I would have never met Gwen. 

“Seven years is not seven decades. Whatever you want, whomever you want to be with, you can have them.”

There ain’t nothing more Arthur wants than for Merlin to pick him and not Gwaine. He wants him and Merlin to be together again but Arthur can’t be that selfish. Arthur doesn’t belong in Ealdor anymore. And there ain’t nothing he’s ever done, there ain’t anything he can do to be deserving of Merlin. 

There ain’t anything redeeming about Arthur. At least not enough to be with Merlin. 

Which is fine with Arthur, makes coercing the townsfolk easier, makes leaving easier. 

Arthur makes up his resolve for the rest of the car ride.

That is, until they get back to Ealdor, and Elinor runs out the house and bounds right into Arthur’s leg, hugging him. He wants to do right by her, he really does. He wants her to have the same opportunities he had in Camelot. He wants her to learn about the world far more vast than just the country side. 

“Ellie,” Arthur hugs her and pats her blonde, shining hair until she lets go of him and embraces Merlin. Arthur thinks they’re perfect. They evoke such brilliant feelings of home and family and all the sudden Arthur understands the line between this family and his own family clearer. His family’s fucked up. His daddy works too much, and where Arthur follows Uther’s footsteps, Morgana defies it to the best of her ability. And it ain’t Morgana’s fault. It’s the bad crowd at school she got involved with. Arthur’s afraid the same might happen to Elinor if she were to be brought to the city. But Arthur supposes he’s got to have more faith than that. Arthur imagines making Elinor spend school months in Camelot and then sending her back to Merlin for the summer. But he’s villain enough right now to even think of letting that come to pass. Merlin is Elinor’s papa. Arthur’s just the man who knocked him up. 

It’ll be so damn easy to take Merlin to court, and make him share custody of Elinor.

Except, Arthur’s got some inkling of a heart. He doesn’t want to hurt Merlin like that. 

It’s jealousy that provokes Arthur to think these things. It’s rage against Gwaine and his apathy toward what Merlin really wants or doesn’t want from him. It’s guilt that eats Arthur up, compels him to want to take care of Elinor to the best of his abilities, take her away from Gwaine’s influences. Merlin too, he wants to take Merlin away from Gwaine too. 

“I missed y’all,” Elinor says to them, sweetly. She recounts to all the adults around her how her day’s been, what she been up to. She tells them about hills being mountains, and puddles being rivers. She tells them that Gwen’s sewing her a new dress, that she can’t wait to try it on, can’t wait to be a princess. If Arthur brought her to Camelot, he could give her those for real. Mountain ranges, and beaches, and real ball gowns for when she’s older. But the way Elinor’s eyes light up, she looks like Merlin, and she’s content here. She’s content and happy here with her papa, and her grandmama, and Auntie Gwen, and even Uncle Will. 

“I missed you too, baby girl,” Merlin replies as he kisses her head. 

Arthur smiles down at her. 

“I’ll see you guys for dinner? I’m going to go back to the B&B,” Lance interrupts after he’s hauled Merlin’s supplies out the truck and into the front steps. 

“Same here.” Arthur says and he climbs back into the truck. 

Merlin waves them off. He doesn’t offer Arthur to stay even though Elinor’s got that look on her face like she wants to talk to Arthur more. But as he’s learned, Elinor’s a quick study. She can tell that her papa and her daddy ain’t on the same page. 

Lance doesn’t talk to Arthur on the way to Gwen’s. And that, that’s something Arthur deserves.

“I’m going to freshen up,” Arthur says before Gwen can offer him anything to drink or eat. He ain’t in the mood to talk to any of these fine people, these people he’s deceiving and cheating out of their homes. He kind of wants to cry into his pillow. He wishes his mama were here still. She’d know what to say. She’d kiss his cheeks and make him feel better. Or Morgana. He wishes she ain’t so far from the little sister who told Arthur everything, and who listened when Arthur had something to say.

The knock on the door awakens Arthur and he don’t even realized he’s fallen asleep until the knocking makes him open his eyes.

“Arthur, honey, you okay in there?” 

No, no he ain’t. He feels so torn, he feels like he’s two people at one time, and no one at all. 

Gwen knocks again, “Arthur, Merlin’s here for you.”

Arthur breathes out and puts his pillow on top of his face, breathes into it, and he feels suffocated. He finds that it ain’t a new revelation: this suffocation. Maybe his daddy’s always been suffocating him with expectations, maybe Morgana’s been putting a pillow on his face since they were kids, this pressure to be a good brother, maybe his mama’s death ain’t even let him truly breathe. 

Arthur thinks about breathing. Then he thinks about Merlin because thinking about Merlin always felt like breathing without being suffocated: effortless and necessary. 

“Yeah, I’ll…Let him in, Gwen, please.”

Gwen has the only other key to the room and she lets Merlin in with no problem at all. Arthur offers her a grateful smile but he doesn’t think he can look at Merlin yet without feeling the tightness in his chest. He doesn’t want to let Merlin down a second time.

When Gwen leaves them alone, Merlin gives Arthur a second and then he’s hauling Arthur out of bed like Arthur doesn’t weigh nothing at all.

“Let’s go. I got something to show you.” Arthur lets himself be pulled and if he falls when Merlin hauls his body out of Gwen’s B&B, then so be it. Arthur doesn’t think falling is going to hurt anymore than the impact of it.

“Where are you taking me?”

Merlin smirks; he looks all of 15 again. 

“How about you shut up and keep up, Pendragon?”

Arthur shuts right up and follows. 

It’s a long walk, but it doesn’t feel like it. Summer night’s warm even without the sun. Or maybe it’s how close Merlin is. Or it’s probably all in Arthur’s head. 

They don’t talk. At least, Arthur doesn’t. Merlin makes noises, like he’s always done. Musing to himself, ain’t making no sense. But somehow, he makes sense to Arthur. 

Merlin got a backpack with him but the contents remain a secret to Arthur. That is, until they get to Arthur’s old house, and they go ‘round the back, and suddenly there’s flashbacks to summer nights when they were younger. 

“Are we camping?” He asks Merlin, shocked.

Merlin shakes his head, “You need a tent or something? ‘Cause all I got is a blanket and a flashlight, and blind faith.”

Blind faith, Arthur barks a laugh, “If that’s good with you then it’s good with me.”

Merlin’s blanket fits both of them. And the stars in the sky are enough for them to count. Not that the stars are ever comparable to Merlin, Arthur thinks. He’s never come out here to watch the stars. Merlin watches the stars; Arthur watches Merlin. But he ain’t now, because Merlin’s just staring at Arthur and is this how it feels? Arthur wonders. So Arthur trains his eyes to the sky. 

Orion is stark and obvious. Maybe he can see the Big Dipper, he ain’t quite sure. Maybe if he paid more attention then, he’d be able to name all these clusters of stars, pick ‘em out expertly. After a while, they all start to blur and Arthur’s heartbeat takes over his attention. Out the corner of his eyes he can see Merlin’s still looking at him. Arthur breathes, tries not to breathe too heavy or too shallow. Finally, Merlin turns his head to the vastness of the sky.

“Tell me about you,” Merlin asks, full of genuine interest. Arthur’s suddenly aware how close their hands are touching.

“You’ve known me your whole life,” Arthur answers because he doesn’t want to tell Merlin the truth about anything.

“I know five year old Arthur, and ten year old Arthur, and sixteen year old Arthur. I don’t know nothing about 23 year old you. So come on, tell me,” Merlin prompts. He glances at Arthur for a split second and then stares back up directly at the moon. 

“I work for my father,” Arthur says. Merlin smirks.

“Ain’t no surprise. What do you do for him?”

Arthur shrugs, “Whatever he needs done.”

“And what kind of things does the mighty Uther Pendragon need done?”

Arthur stills, stammers before he sighs a response, “Business things. Building things. Expansion.”

Merlin looks at him then, “That why you’re here?”

And this time, Arthur full on goes rigid. He can’t look Merlin in the eyes, won’t look Merlin in the eyes. He doesn’t want to be lying to Merlin. He doesn’t want to tell the truth neither.

Merlin laughs though and Arthur releases his breath. 

“That all you’ve been doing for seven years? How’s Morgana?”

Arthur smiles at the thought of his sister, “She’s defying my father the way I could never. She’s living with this guy who’s older than her: her boyfriend. I don’t know for how long this time though. Maybe she’s even moved on to another guy while I’ve been here.” 

Merlin nods, “She’s always been a firecracker. Mama thought so too. The good kind. The kind that explodes in the sky, big and bright and beautiful. Boyfriend, huh? What about you, Arthur, got someone special back home, or back in Camelot?”

Arthur feels his cheeks heat up because there’s no one. There ain’t ever been another one since Merlin. Sure, there’s been one-night stands or ill-lived relationships. There was Mithian but she was too nebulous for him; she deserved more than he could ever give. And there was Vivian, whom his father had basically pushed at him, and those things never did end well. Arthur ain’t no exception. Sophia, and Morgause, and Cara, and boys he could never name, whose faces are erased the moment Arthur closes his eyes to kiss them because he’s always ever only had one boy in his mind.

“None.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow, “I doubt that very much. But I’ll spare you.”

Arthur stares hard at Merlin, “Okay, my turn for the third degree. You been with anyone besides me?”

“It’s a small town, Arthur. It was either you or Will, and Will’s closer to my brother than anything.”

And Arthur’s a little bit annoyed now because Merlin sounds like he’s lying, like he’s trying to take Gwaine out the equation, downplaying what great thing he obviously had with Gwaine.

So Arthur bravely confronts him, “What about Gwaine?”

“Gwaine’s just someone.” 

Merlin doesn't want to say that it doesn't matter who Gwaine is but that's a blatant dishonour to Gwaine because Gwaine was the only other boy Merlin loved and Merlin'd only loved two in his lifetime. He knows he won't ever feel like this for anyone else in the world.

"Someone I know," Merlin says and hopes Arthur doesn't pry into his business more but Arthur, unlike Will, missed out on seven years of getting to know the way Merlin's mind works, that Merlin much prefers for his business to be his own.

"Someone important?" Arthur prods and Merlin just closes his eyes, breathes in and then out.

It takes a whole moment where Merlin's sure Arthur's regretting his question and Merlin feels bad. He turns toward Arthur who's looking at him with his blue earnest eyes and Merlin ain't got the heart to lie to him no more.

Merlin cups Arthur's face with both hands, forces him to keep eye contact. God knows they been avoiding each other all night.

"Yes, he is," Merlin says and he can see that Arthur wants to look away, get up, and run. But that's why Merlin's got his hands on his face. "But he ain't ever going to be more important than you."

Arthur grinds his teeth, clenches his jaw.

"Because I'm Elinor's father."

Merlin shakes his head because this fool thinks that Merlin only wants him around for what, child support? And yeah maybe life would be easier with the Pendragon money helping them out but that definitely ain't why Arthur's important to Merlin.

"Because you're Elinor's daddy. And because I love you. Because even if it wasn't for her, I'd still be in love you with, Arthur Pendragon. Because I was 15 the first time you held me and 16 the first and only time we..." Merlin can feels tears coming out his eyes, "and I loved you even after you left. You were my entire world even when you were gone. I let it go for a couple of weeks, no letters, no phone call. But I always thought about you. And then when I found out, I thought, it'll all be all right because even if you never came back, I'd always have this piece of you, I had your child in me. And I prayed to the Lord no harm would come to it because it was the last thing I had that tied me to you.”

Arthur feels a rumble in his bones and realizes his whole body’s shaking. He’s fucking crying. 

Merlin erases the space between them as he holds Arthur’s hands, as he leans into Arthur’s shaking body. Arthur can’t find his damn words. He chokes on his tears. He grasps Merlin into his arms. Merlin’s body is more mature than it was seven years ago but his frame is the same; it fits right into Arthur’s embrace. His lips feel the same, plump and full of promises and full of hope. Arthur desperately kisses Merlin. Screw breathing, he wants to live off of Merlin’s passion. Merlin’s hair is soft as it’s ever been, and Arthur fingers curl around his raven curls. He calls out God in lieu of Merlin’s name and draws answered prayers from his lips. Arthur ain’t aware of nothing but his and Merlin’s bodies, and the way their hearts are beating in tune with one another. 

When they break apart, Arthur can’t help but laugh. 

They’re 15 and 16 and have just experienced something neither of them can explain with words, something so ineffable all they can do is look at each other and pray neither of them will regret it. Merlin is 15 and he hurts all over. But he likes the way Arthur kisses every hurting part. Arthur is 16 and he’s scared of all the things they’ve done but he’s never felt this damn happy before. 

They’re teenagers who know nothing of the world, who mapped out their routes on each other’s bodies over and over to commit it to memory, who trekked up and down every curve and every plane, every soft spot and hard edge, who caressed paths to each other’s hearts, who forged the way home to each other’s souls.

They are two boys whose lives will be altered the moment they leave each other’s sides. And they don’t even know it.

They are men now. 22 and 23 years of age.

Arthur pulls back from where he’s got Merlin in his arms again after so many years. He bows his head in shame.

“I have to tell you why I’m here. But I want you to remember that I love you too. And that I’ll fix it. That I’ll fight this time.”

Arthur sighs; he’s got this weight like lead pressing down on him, and this obstruction in his throat called nerves. Maybe there’s even butterflies in his stomach; he wants to puke. Merlin’s just standing there, waiting, looking at him. Arthur thinks Merlin’s waiting to be disappointed again. And Arthur can’t take that no more. He can’t let Merlin feel like shit whenever he thinks of Arthur. It ain’t right; Arthur doesn’t want that. He wants Merlin to think about how much Arthur loves him, how much he loves Elinor, how much he’ll do to keep them in his life. 

And then he tells Merlin, sparing no details. Arthur finds, the more he tells Merlin the truth, the easier it becomes. He tells it with ease the way he told Merlin he’d cut himself with broken glass when they were smaller, secrets flowing between them easy like the river to the sea. He tells Merlin about his father’s plans, all of it. And he sees the tightness in Merlin’s jaw, the polite way he doesn’t want to curse Uther Pendragon to hell like he really wants. When he gets to the end of his story, he waits for Merlin’s reaction.

And it’s a damn good one.

Merlin punches him straight across his pretty jaw. “Damn,” he hisses, shaking the hand that he used, knuckles surely smarting. 

Arthur cradles his face; he ain’t been punched like that since high school when Valiant made him his punching bag, and then shouted “fag” at him. But somehow, Merlin’s punch hurts more, because he really does deserve it. 

Despite himself though, Arthur finds himself laughing, “You good?” He asks and Merlin can’t hide his grin. Merlin nods. “That felt good.”

Merlin steps close to Arthur again, distance disappearing once more. Arthur’s jaw is turning red and Merlin touches it with his fingers, featherlight. 

“I ain’t apologizing,” Merlin says defiantly, and then he kisses Arthur where he socked him. 

“Arthur, go home.” Merlin looks down, and interlaces their hands. Arthur steps back but they’re hands remain together. 

“What?” Arthur asks, confused. “I don’t want to lose you again. You or Elinor. Or this place. Merlin.” Arthur’s desperation is almost palpable. 

Merlin kisses him again, this time on the mouth. And then Arthur understands. Merlin says to him, assuringly, “Go back to Camelot and tell your daddy Ealdor ain’t for sale. Me and Elinor’ll be right here when you get back.”

**Author's Note:**

> i don't speak this dialect and i don't know why i wrote it like that. i promise there's going to be a second part (the ending) ((if you want)). one day.


End file.
